Lost Myself
by Prestidigitation
Summary: What does one do when you've finally achieved what you've fought for, nearly given up your life for? Perhaps... catch up with an old, long lost friend? Especially when you thought they were gone for good.


**Author's Note: **All of the Underland terms used in this are located at the bottom. :]

* * *

He would have thought the on the Frabjous Day they had all dreamt of, where he had futterwackened for the first time in a very very many more verys _very_ long time, he would have been more… cheerful. Vibrant eyes that of a Crums meadow on a bright day shifted from their blind gazing over the night-dipped lands of Marmoreal to the tattered hat held in his hands. His thumb, still wrapped from accidently pricking himself on one of his many pins (Or had that been Mallymkin's doing?) so long ago that he wasn't entirely relatively sure why he still had it bound, brushed gently at the paper tucked in the coral pink silk wrapped around the base of the top hat. He felt the fire that seemed to eat his head whenever he thought of his clan, the blinding hot flame as bright at his tainted hair that devoured him and made him… someone else. Someone he didn't know. Just the thought of that day made everything blur and sense flee faster than McTwisp when startled.

His vision was suddenly cleared of the veil of fuzzy, bubbling fury that made things appear distorted and off when there was a sharp pain in this thumb. Blinking he jerked upright from leaning with his elbows on the white marble railing of one of the White Queen's many balconies in her castle. Studying the bead of ruby murderous Red Queen's color swelling up on his gauze-wrapped finger, he remembered why he still had it wrapped. If he was alone and with no one to keep him from teetering, toppling, tumbling t'over (He supposed that didn't really work in continuing the line of 't's.) the edge of being rather more mad than usual, a jabbing to the finger with one of his pins usually did the trick. And why bother pricking other fingers when he could quite obviously simply continue to use the same thumb?

He brought said abused thumb up to his lips, tongue flashing out to swipe away the sphere of much too muchly red growing there. His pale face pinched in disgust at the bitter tang that assaulted his poor pink tongue and waggled it about in a vain attempt to get the taste to somehow go floating off and away. When that was unsuccessful, he considered retreating inside for a cup of hot tea. Or luke warm tea. Or possibly had once been warm at some point in the past hopefully day or so of late. He wasn't picky. After drinking the same tea out of what was most of the time the same cup for years after getting Time rather unhappy, he was used to taking what he could when tea was concerned.

A small sighing exhaled breath snaked from his nostrils, usually smiling face only holding a look of gloom as he resumed his position of leaning on the marble white as the moon slung low and fat in the sky like a lazy plump cat. A smile flicked across his features at the notion of it being rather like Chessur before it was gone faster that it took to blink an eye. Tilting his head down, he placed his hat back on top of his head, feeling a bit more normal with it in its rightful place. But what was normal? What was abnormal? What was being mad and what wasn't? Right, wrong? Was perhaps the Red Queen good and they the evil ones? Perhaps it was all twisted 'round wrong. A giggle tripped from his lips, evoking another smile that was brief a beat of a Rocking-Horse-Fly's wings, at the thought that it was probably just his _mind_ that was twisted. Alice had said that all the best people were mad… but not bestly enough for her to stay. Not enough.

"Tarrant?" his luminous field-green eyes that had smoldered in sadness at the thought lit back up again in surprise as he straightened and whipped around. That was his name after all. Wasn't it? He thought perhaps it could quite possibly be so. Contrariwise, he was rather mad so what did he know? He decided he needed to stop spending quite so much time with the Tweedles as they were not helping his lack of sanity. But yes. That was his name. It had just not been used for a while. A great long while. Most people had just resorted to call him 'Hatter'. His title… who he was anymore he supposed. He had changed greatly since the Red Queen's take-over, perhaps they thought Hatter was more fitting for this new him. So then who was it who did not think the same or perhaps simply didn't know better?

A figure moved from the shadows cast by the tower the balcony was branched off of. A rather small one at that, perhaps half a foot shorter than him or something close to that. A he—she, she. Not he. He was having terrible trouble keeping those straight. But she was a she, tawny hair allowed down to tumble to a halt about her waist and hide her face a bit more than he would have appreciated as it was hard to determine whether he knew her or not. She was dressed in one of the white gowns that the White Queen had on hand for such occasions as someone showing up in need of clothing. Oddly it happened often.

The he—_she_ moved more into the milky light the moon that was licking across them and grey-green eyes shyly met his gaze from the curtain of hair and a small pale face jutted out a tad as if more confident in the slightest upon seeing it was him. She knew him—more than that, much more, he knew _her_! "Taria?" he peered closer at her, brow furrowing before delight struck his features and remained as he bounced closer "It is you! Taria, you're not just a him—she I mean, you're you! You!"

A smile spread her lips and relief joined it, clearly glad he had recognized her as she chuckled and answered "And you're you too."

"I should hope I am, I try very hard to be." He answered before confusion colored the excitement on his features as he looked at her closely once again "But—you--… my dear Taria, I thought… you were dead. I thought we'd rather completely lost you."

"No, not dead. I was just… captured." She said softly, eyes dropping to the marble floor as she tossed her head and her hair shifted back to reveal her cheek. A blistered, raw pink heart had been seared on her cheek, startling against her pallid skin.

He reached up and his equally ashen finger very carefully brushed the brand, gentle to the point of his touch barely being a breath of air in feel before he touched a couple more fingers to the side of her face just behind the mark, his green gaze meeting her own as he inquired quietly "What happened that day, Fustilug?"

"Well we were all fighting, trying to keep Stayne and his men from capturing the animals to take back to her castle as slaves." There was no need to clarify who the 'her' was. It was usually obvious when one was talking about the Red Queen, especially when that someone had lost someone or someones to her. They got the mix of anger and sorrow that painted Taria's softly angled features as her fog-swept hazel eyes grew distant in memory. "Off to the stang I saw a family of hedgehogs being chased so I ran to help them. I--… should have gotten someone else to come with me, with how little fighting experience I had and they were yadder from our group but… I had to help them. I attacked the soldier which really only gave a distraction for them to get away more than anything. Then I felt this—this pain just explode in my head and fell to the ground. Stayne had hit me with the hilt of his sword, I think I rather believe, and I heard him say to take me. The worst was… seeing the hedgehog family get captured just before I blacked out."

"I woke up in one of the cells in her castle. Wondering why my head was still attached." A sort of giggle dropped from her mouth but fell like an emotionless stone. "I soon found out they wanted a prisoner, someone who they could get information out of. They already knew most of the things they interrogated me about but Stayne didn't care. It gave him an excuse to work out his frustration on somebody. But the thing they didn't know and wanted me to give up was where we were gathering." Her eyes suddenly slid back into the present and she looked fully into his face, looking anxious "But I didn't betray you Tar, I didn't. I mean I did but not really. I never could nor would or should or… never…"

It all came back to him as she spoke. Fustilug, the day after Shatterky when the prim poised posy of a White Queen was banished by her conniving covetous cacti of a sister. The sister who had been determined to rally up any creature she could to be forced to serve her, in whatever way she saw fit. As they soon discovered, even acting as furniture was not out of the question for the unfortunate animals. The Underland Underground Resistance had been trying to stop this. And Taria. Taria had joined for much the same reason he had created the group in the first place. A twisting, jabbing thirst for either justice or revenge, whichever came swiftest on simple feet.

Her family came from a long line of scribes, her ancestors being the ones who created the Oraculum on Shunder, the first time the sun lazed up into the sky over Underland. Her parents had continued this by producing scrolls recording anything and everything. They recorded when things changed in the Oraculum and why they did so, even just the smallest of rather not all that noticeable somethings just in case in the future it needed to be known why and how exactly something happened. Their scrolls were mass produced so those less informed could contradict themselves and becomes well informed indeed. Taria assisted her parents but her recordings were of all of the old stories, sonnets, anything the elder of the Underland population had to offer and remembered from their youth so it could be continued to be passed, tossed, and handed down the line of generations.

They were known for their trade and known as the people to come too if you were in need of information, entertainment, or quite simply merely had something you wanted them to record. And many did. Nobody was quite sure if there was something more to just their words and illustrations on the page, but they had a strong effect on people. Between the honesty of the family and the skill of their quills, those who read their work accepted it as fact.

This, unfortunately, was the cause of their tragedy.

The Red Queen knew of their talents. And she knew how influential their writings were. So she, quite obviously and of course with her narrow-minded ways of less thinking and more plotting, attempted to hire the family to write what she told them to. That those of Underland should welcome her and love her and accept her. This bloody crimson heart letter turned into no more than a pile of ashes in the fireplace of the family. They were truthfully quite honestly adhered to nothing but facts and only the truths of truths, as the lies of truths are rather quite silly.

Furious by their lack of response and assumed decline of her offer as well as finding they went on to write about her taking over ruthlessly and brutally, that she was a vile snake of a tyrant, the Red Queen determined her usual punishment was in order. By some crazy random happenstance of luck, Taria was out getting a story when Stayne arrived at their home. Normally, the Red Queen liked to observe decapitations for her own twisted glee but in this case she wanted them to be an example of what would happen to those who did not comply with her demands. Taria had come home to find her parents headless and bound on the lawn, nothing but royal queen red in place of their missing heads.

Tarrant himself had been informed of this by Chessur, which was odd as the cat wasn't one to get himself involved in anyone's business that gave him nothing in return but McTwisp had summoned him to fetch the Hatter so that McTwisp himself could remain with Taria who was in a state of shock. When Tarrant arrived on horseback she hadn't moved from where she'd fallen to her knees, still gazing blindly at the now cold pasty bodies of her mother and father. Her scroll was abandoned at her side, _The Lobster Quadrille_ written in shifting text which began to run down the page like swift salty tears.

After much coaxing, and quite a number of several couple cups of tea, she was roused from her trance-like state. The look of pain, like she had millions of pins biting into her heart and using it as a cushion, in her eyes mirrored his own. Though his family, his clan, had been quite a bit larger than her own, this made no difference. The feeling was the same. And much like him, she wanted to do something, to claim, capture, and confine some sort of victory against the Red Queen for what she had done. She knew little on fighting but she shared his power of hatred and grief, though perhaps not entirely completely surely as strong as his own mad kind. Nonetheless and anyway, she was a good learner. And there was no question she had the drive to.

However, she never really had the chance. Their first big battle had been the day of Fustilug. The day she was kidnapped. And oh did he remember it now. He wished he didn't but contrariwise he didn't not wish he did. He was in the front of them all and gaining ground. That snarling, grating fire was swirled in his brain and he was constantly aware of the pressure of it on his temples, like placing ones hand close to a viciously hot tea kettle just near enough to feel its power. His tongue was dancing in a way he wasn't sure he was controlling and even his voice didn't seem to be his own. But at that moment it hadn't mattered. The only thought providing more branches to the bonfire was his Clan and that they were gone. It now scared him to remember how deeply muchly and strongly he enjoyed the feeling of his sword connecting with crimson armor and the intense vibrations that ran up his arms from it.

More so than that now he recalled and recollected that he had seen her. Out of the corner of his shifting hazy bloody sunset-tinted vision he'd noticed her sprinting off on her own. One small soft serene voice breathed that he should go after her. Help her. Protect, defend, and guard her. Not just the last of the line of scribes, no definitely completely not only that, but his friend of the closest, dearest kind. But that voice was drowned out in the savage roar of the flame beating a frenzied; mad beat on the insides of his skull. He could not, or perhaps might it maybe possibly uncertainly be _would_ not, pull himself away from the blinding blaze of battle.

A feeling now uncommonly and unfortunately familiar to him wriggled into his stomach and festered as if he had swallowed some slimy vile creature alive. The dreaded, razor-toothed terrible beast known as 'if' assaulted his mind already worn from a different sort of battle, one of the physical kind. If he had gone after her, she wouldn't have very probably gotten kidnapped would he—she? If he would have been paying attention, standing guard, on Horunvendush Day, would he have been able to warn his clan and save them so he wouldn't have had the uncontrollable need to avenge them in the first place to keep him from going after Taria? And of course what seemed to be at the root of it all. If his sanity was intact, would much of this have happened?

The comfort that all the best sort of people were mad had lost its meaning in the slightest, smallest sort of fashion and an added 'if' came. If he wasn't one of those 'bestly' sort of people, would Alice have left?

"Tar I-I'm sorry I didn't—I mean not really—I tried—…" Tarrant blinked rapidly as his freshly attacked mind refocused on the now of things happening. Taria had bowed her head, eyelids low and looking none to cheerful for one who had just been freed.

"My dear I'm relatively quite certain I'm not entirely certain of what you're talking about—" Tarrant began gently before his frazzled brain caught up with what was being conversed. "Oh! Oh no no, I wasn't implying you did a thing." His face flashed curiosity followed by slight confusion "But if you did not do a thing in the sense of telling the Knave what he wanted to hear, why then did they leave your lovely little lily of a head where it is if it's not too inconsiderately terribly crass to ask?"

"I should rather think I'm quite nearly certain that you're hardly ever crass. Never worry about that sort of trivial thing with me." Taria's brief smile was just that and faded as she answered "Chessur told me it was safe to tell them where in Witzend we had been as you'd all determined it'd be safer to meet in Gummer Slough in the sense that the guards dare not venture in. And they'd find evidence we'd been there so I wouldn't look like I was just trying to put them on the wrong trail or making up things—"

"_Pardon_, my dear, but if you may excuse my interruption, disturbance, and stoppage of your tale. But perhaps, maybe, mayhaps, and otherwise I think I might have misheard you." Tarrant's tone was gruffer and a thicker, grittier accent teetering precariously in and out of his speech as his face tightened "But did you say Chessur told you this, that is to reason, that he knew you were captured, caged, contained, confined c—"

"Tarrant?" Taria interjected firmly but worry shifting across her features as she studied him and his suddenly sharpened, hard eyes.

"I'm fine." He said but it was strained and breathless, like his chest was constricting "But did you say _Chessur_?"

Taria seemed uncertain as to whether she should answer this but after a pause nodded and answered "Yes, I did say Chessur. He found me the night of the first day I… I assumed he'd told you but it was simply too difficult to rescue me without being caught, which I understand completely. I'm sure you needed everyone working on what needed to be done concerning the Red… Queen…"

She trailed off because of several things. Firstly, she was not entirely sure Tarrant was even listening anymore and secondly, or more appropriately _lastly, _the Hatter was changing slightly in appearance. She's only seen it happen once before and that time she'd thought it'd just been an odd trick of the light when she caught sight of his face seconds before they'd burst into battle on Fustilug. But now she could clearly see him here in front of her and more specifically, watch his eyes change from brilliantly vivid field green to fiery blazing burnt orange. He whipped around suddenly and she jumped, this snapping her out of her stunned state from his shift in… everything. His eyes had changed; his face wasn't the smiling, warm one she'd known ever since she could remember as it was now twisted with anger. Even his stance was rigid, as if he might burst at any moment. Burst with rage she was assuming. Worry blossomed in her chest and like a raptly growing red rose bush; the thorny vines of it spread throughout her body and dug in deep.

"CHESSUR! Show yourself ye great bloody slurvish gewd for nuthin' feline!" Tarrant's voice lashed out like a whip across the still, crisp night air and it seemed likely that if Chessur were in fact there he'd be knocked out of the air he was lounging in from the sheer power in the deepened, harshly accented tone.

"You _bellowed_? And quite _rudely_, might I add. You're lucky I even decided to come at all." Came a droll tone and a tail went in a lazy circle and seemed to lift a curtain to reveal a large grey cat, the moonlight catching his electric blue stripes and making them stand out more than usual like shocks of electricity. He appeared unflustered, usual grin in place, but Taria now knew him quite well. Unease was in his emerald cat's eyes.

Whether Chessur was concerned or not didn't matter to the milliner anymore. In fact, few things did at the moment. His mind was ablaze in a wildfire of madness as if a match had been struck and thrown into the dead Tugley Wood which would likely burn in seconds. He couldn't think, he could barely see straight with the writhing haze that had devoured his eyes in its orange flame. "And you're lucky ye can _disappear_ to save your own _skin_, as usual!" Tarrant spat while taking a step towards the cat who leaned back in the slightest before he could stop himself to maintain his uncaring façade "Ye _knew_?! Ye knew she was _alive_ an' ye didn't tell _anyone_?! When we stood there'n mourned for her with her parents when we had no bloody body to burry so we used 'er scrolls instead?! Ye didna think, not for one nigh second that ye should _tell us_?!"

Taria felt a mixture of things trying to battle out for dominance within her. Confusion as to why Chessur hadn't told them she wasn't dead and was captured, concern for Tarrant and the way he was acting in what he might try to do to Chess, touched that they had actually… cared enough to morn for her, that they'd used her scrolls in such a way because they'd known how much a part of her they were. Chessur did not have quite so many feelings to worry about. "Yes I _knew_." Chess replied, grin gone and now replaced with a near bearing of his sharp teeth. Taria had never seen him angry, even slightly. "I was the one who kept her _alive_. Once the Queen had gotten what she wanted out of her, they forgot all about her. They left her to _rot_ and _wither_ away until nothing at all was left and then, my dear _Hatter_, _then_ she would have been dead and I suppose that funeral would have meant something, hm? But I brought her food and water, fresh clothes when I could, and it's not at all pompous to say I kept her from becoming too much like _you._ _You_ who should be thanking me for keeping her _alive_ long enough to realize that you'd made a_ mistake _while you were too busy being _mad_ to notice."

"That's enough!" Taria snapped and they both looked at her, Tarrant's face seeming to be eaten by the blazing, furious insanity. She wanted to help him, calm him, but at the moment it would be hard to with Chess glowering indignantly at Tarrant, tail bristling slightly while it coiled and twisted back and forth agitatedly. "It's not Tarrant's fault he's mad Chessur, that was a useless thing to say because you know full well he had no control." She said while scowling slightly at the feline.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. But either way, if it were not for _me_, you would not be here." Chess' tail flicked about before pausing and he looked at her while adding "Not to sound rude, love."

Tarrant laughed gruffly, a twisted smile not even a shadow of his usual bright one contorting his lips "Oh no no, not at all. Did it nae occur to ye that maybe ye wadna had to keep the lass alive'ad ye done what ye _should've_ and told us so we could perhaps _rescue_ her? Did ye even _think at all_ that _maybe_ someone might remember she was down there'n decided it was high time for that head of hers to come _off_?"

Chessur snorted with a scoff "Do you _really_ think you could have rescued her or that an attempt would even have been made in the first place? Not to say she's not important but would one life be deemed worth perhaps giving up the kingdom if the _grand Resistance_ was caught trying to obtain her? If you were thinking _clearly_ perhaps you'd realize trying it would have put everything at risk and that _knowing_ you couldn't save her would have given everyone a sense of guilt and would not have helped. And an attempt only to fail _miserably_ would have only raise her hopes and dash them viciously. Why _ever_ should I have done _that_?"

Taria wanted to interject, getting angry herself because they were both speaking as if she wasn't there and didn't have her own thoughts on the matter but they were always too fast for her to say anything before they shot back a reply. Tarrant's lip curled upwards slightly as he took another step towards the cat. "What did ye git out of it, ay? You, ye great bloody slunking ur-pals. Ye never do something unless ya git somethin' back for it. What could ye 'ave _possibly_ gotten from keepin' 'er locked away?"

"What did I get out of it? I _received_ the knowledge that the only person who would even _speak_ to me was kept _**safe**_, you gallymoggers halfwit." Chessur's voice was its usual suave tone but stiffer than usual and his tail continued to cut through the air nonstop. "Because _you_ blamed me for the Hightopp Clan's unsightly demise at the hands of a creature only the _Vorpal sword could stop_, so did everyone else. _You_ were the trusted one even if you'd lost your head with grief and so _everyone_ treated me like some sort of unintentional murderer. Taria was the only one who didn't blame me for what happened that day, the only person who did not look at me with disgust or shame. Perhaps it was because she was captured too quickly while you once again _lost your head_. Perhaps your _charms_ and influence, even on the viewing of others, had not the chance to work on her. Either way, she was _safe_ where she was. You know as well as I had she not been captured she would have been fighting with the rest of you and who's to say she wouldn't have gotten hurt, killed for that matter? Taken and beheaded without the_ luxuries_ of being 'pressed' for information then forgotten. But in that cell, forgotten by everyone but me, there was nobody to remember to harm her." Chessur's grin appeared but it had a mocking tone to it "It seems _you_ lost your head more that she did, metaphorically speaking at least."

"Maybe ye _wanted_ 'er to be forgotten, eh cat?" Tarrant's voice was a low quiet rumble and he had bowed his head so his face was hidden beneath his hat except for his dark smile. "If there's nobody to remember to harm her, there's also nobody to remember to take 'er from ya." His head snapped up suddenly, eyes whirling with fury "Ye wanted ta keep 'er locked up where you could keep 'er right where you wanted 'er to be, where nobody else could have her and ye could have one entire friend in this whole bloody world ye knew would be there because you _forced_ her to be there! Ye lying, scheming, cheating, conniving, corrupt, crooked, calculating, controlling, cowardly, craven, conceited, contemptuous, condescending—"

The words were spewing unchecked from his mouth so swiftly that they were becoming taut and strained from lack of air but he would not stop to take a breath as he advanced towards Chess who looked a bit stunned. Taria started for him, reaching to grab his arm "Tarrant!"

"_**CAT!**_" Tarrant, despite the severe lack of air, managed to snarl out before gasping, chest heaving slightly.

"Tar, calm down." Taria said gently, taking his arm and turning him to face her instead of Chess. She resisted the urge to blanch as he looked at her with fierce orange eyes and face still twisted in anger. It'd been years since they'd last seen each other but it didn't mean she didn't trust him. It was just hard not to be disconcerted when he looked so… unlike himself.

"_How_? How can I when we could 'ave rescued you and stopped _this—_" Tarrant took her face in his hands more roughly than usual, several fingers brushing the raw, peeling, and Red Queen bloody spotted mark that was the heart burned into her cheek and Taria stiffened slightly not because it hurt but because of the memory of when it _did_ hurt and Stayne digging his fingers into the freshly blistered skin. It had almost been pressed all the way through her flesh and there'd been, of course, no treatment. Chess did his best to help it heal but it was no Bandersnatch scratch. She'd spent much of that time period out cold either due to pain or Chess would bring her something to force it.

Taria wrenched herself back from the agonizing memory to focus on Tarrant and helping him calm down before he really lost control. He seemed far too close to that point for comfort. "Tar, listen to me." Now she reached up to his face, gently cupping his hot, ashen cheeks in her hands, looking at him earnestly. "Whether what Chess did was or wasn't right doesn't matter. It's done, in the past. He did what he thought was right and really that's all we can ever ask of anyone. Perhaps I was safer there, perhaps I wasn't, but I'm here now and I'm okay. We're all okay because the Red Queen is gone. _That's_ the thing that should matter right now, looking forward to a much muchier future." She smiled at him, trying to coax him back to his usual self.

The Hatter blinked once, then twice, then a few more times just to be certain as vibrant green began to break through the curtain of red over his eyes until finally they were cleared and his gaze was one again its stunningly harlequin-green. The inferno that had engulfed his mind smoldered away to a cinder at the back corner awaiting to be roused at a later, hopefully much _much_ later, date. The partly chemical-based swirls of madness in his brain had ceased their whirlwind for now. His face shifted from the almost unrecognizable mask of anger to his usual giddy smile. "I missed seeing you smile, you know. It took some work to see every now and once and a while, but it was always worth it." He said quietly, slowly letting his hands drop from her face and she did the same now that she was sure he was calm, using the excuse of looking at Chessur to try and hide the pink sneaking into her cheeks. Tarrant noticed it and remembered how irritated he got when he used to tease her about it. It seemed so long ago.

"Chess, no matter if everything you did was right or wrong or anything between, you still helped me. So thank you." Taria said and her eyes and small quirk of her lips told him he would always be her friend, caged or not. What was done was done and it couldn't be changed anyway.

"It was my pleasure." Chessur purred lazily, eyes flicking to Tarrant once more before returning to Taria. "Well I'd best be on my way. But I'm sure I'll see you around." He winked, grin going past his ears before he faded to nothing, the grin the last thing to go.

Taria looked to where Tarrant had been and was mildly surprised to find he wasn't there. He had moved back over to his original spot of leaning on the railing of the balcony. His face was hidden from her as it had been when she had first come out and his posture held the same unenergetic stance to it as well. Uncertainly, worried he might not want to be disturbed, Taria walked over to stand next to him, looking at him carefully as she did so. When he did not take his eyes from the moon-swept view of Mamoreal, she could tell his mind was far off. So she leaned her elbows on the railing as well and waited patiently for him to ponder.

"'Will ye walk a li'le faster?' said a whiting to a snail,  
'There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on me tail." Taria nearly jerked away in surprise when he finally spoke, very softly and in the rough tone he seemed to acquire when he was angry over something. Worriedly, she checked his eyes but they were still green, just distant. Then she realized she recognized what he had spoken in his oddly thrilling tone that sent a bristle of awareness through her, due to unease or interest she wasn't sure.

"That… that sounds strangely familiar but maybe I'm just mistaken? I am probably. Always am. Am not, not always. Though a lot of the time. Maybe it is always. No it's not—yes it is." She covered her mouth quickly with a hand but it was too late. In her distraction with trying to figure out why she knew what he had spoken, she had dropped her concentration on _not_ letting that slip out. Not letting anything… anything that had changed in her head slip out. She felt like running away and was about to when he spoke and it kept her from doing so.

"It's, I believe if I myself am not mistaken which is entirely not improbable I think, from your recording you were bringing home the day your parents… were taken." Tarrant's face fell, looking downwards and grief claiming his features before his emotions swung 'round again and he now cocked his head at her curiously "But pardon my asking if you just happened to be arguing with yourself?"

"No no, I wasn't—well not entirely exactly. Was I? Probably. Yes I was. No I wasn't, not really totally—yes really totally I was indeed stop it!" the last bit she cried out without meaning to and she quickly covered her mouth again before letting her head drop to hide her face in her crossed arms on the railing. She wished she could disappear like Chess more than she ever had in her life, which was saying something considering she envied his abilities much of the time. Why couldn't she control herself? But she quickly stomped that question out in her mind before another argument started up.

Tarrant blinked and studied her for a moment as if to see if it would happen again before reaching over and resting a hand on her back to try and comfort her. "It seems… I'm not the only one who's had things change, shift, reorganize, alter—ahem, in my head, hm?" he'd barely coughed himself to a stop from going off on a rant listing more words.

She slowly lifted her head to look at him, face anxious. "It—it started there, in prison. When they kept… they just kept _asking_ questions over and over and calling me a lying idiot girl and…" she trailed off slightly, eyes shifting to her arms. Tarrant's eyes followed hers and he saw puckered scars of different shapes and sizes like some designer had just tried many different styling's of cuts on the same piece of cloth. But this was no cloth. "After a while I just… I started to question myself. Was I really lying, could all of them be wrong? Would they be so determined if I didn't know something? Was it in me… somewhere…? The ability to see what would happen later, if the Red Queen would keep her crown and the Oraculum would be changed. But then—then I started answering back. N-now I just… argue. With myself but not exactly entirely--… I don't know. I just—I don't… trust myself or—or something…" her eyes were watering slightly and she let her hair cover her face so she wouldn't have to look at him "Chess meant it earlier… I've lost my head but in a different sense of what the Red Queen would have wanted. I'm… mad…"

He frowned, concern and sadness flying across his always expressing features before being booted out by realization and remembrance. This smile was also brief as he put on a serious expression, taking her chin and lifting her pallid face so he could see it clearly. "I'll be the judge of that." He said briskly, the gruff accent sneaking back into his voice and making the hair on the back of Taria's neck stand on end while at the same time being lulled in by it. His hand, fingertips spotted with rusty orange she noticed, went to her forehead and his palm pressed to it for a moment or two before dropping. "I'm afraid you're right, m'dear. Yew're mad, gallymoggers, lost your 'ead." He said grimly before saying in a softer tone, leaning back towards his usual one "But I'll tell you a secret."

He leaned in close and she felt his breath dance along her ear and he whispered "All the best people are."

* * *

**Terms/Names/etc. (In the order in which they come in the story.)**

~ Fabjous Day - The day where Alice slays the Jabberwocky.  
~ Futterwacken - A dance that the Mad Hatter does particularly well.  
~ Crums - the center portion on Underland, where the singing flowers are and where Alice first enters Underland.  
~ Marmoreal - Where the White Queen's castle is located.  
~ Mallymkin - the dormouse, often called Mally.  
~ McTwisp - The White Rabbit  
~ Chessur - The Cheshire Cat  
~ Rocking-Horse-Fly - Really? 8| It's a fly. That looks like a rocking horse.  
~ Fustilug - The day after Shatterky where the Red Queen had animals rounded up and brought in as slaves.  
~ Stang - right. As in, Taria was saying 'Off to the right'.  
~ Yadder - Far away.  
~ Shatterky - The day the White Queen was banished by thr Red Queen, before Fustilug.  
~ The Oraculum - A scroll calander compendium. It has every day since the beginning and into the future.  
~ Shunder - The first day of Underland coming to be.  
~ Horunvendush Day - The day the Hightopp Clan was killed by the Jabberwocky and the Red Queen took control of Underland.  
~ Witzend - The western part of Underland. It's where Chessur, Thackery(The March Hare), and Tarrant were all born. Taria was also born there and lived in the same area as them.  
~ Gummer Slough - a dangerous swamp with thick, vicious mud.  
~ Slurvish - Selfish, self-centered.  
~ The Tugley Wood - Where the Hightopp Clan was killed and also where Alice fought the Jabberwocky.  
~ Gallymoggers - crazy  
~ The Vorpal Sword - The only sword that can slay the Jabberwocky.

These are all from the Alice In Wonderland visual guide, not made up by myself. The only character, thing, etc. I own in this is Taria. And the concept that the Oraculum changes depending on whether an event happens or not is just a hypothesis by myself.


End file.
